Way of Things
by Flipper Boid Skua
Summary: Oneshot. The last moments of a certain chiropter on the Upper Spar. Darkwing fanfic. Please read and review!


Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing or any of its characters.

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He's been returning to the Upper Spar daily. The young chiropter knew that his hunting skills were not great, the frequent contests with his friends showed him that fact. Well, he was determined to change it, especially after his most recent lost not too long ago. 8 insects on such a long glide as from the Upper Spar to the Lower Reach!? Surely he wasn't that bad, was he?

Waking up one morning, earlier than most of the colony, earlier than what he was used to, he sniffed the air and glanced at his parents who slept on soundly. Moving with care, he scuttled to the trunk of the sequoia and began the long climb up. Sometimes he wished he had the right muscles to fly. Watching Dusk, he's tried to copy the technique but didn't have much success like the other chiropters who gave it a shot. His parents didn't like to see him do such a thing and they always reprimanded him. Oh well...like other chiropters, he was perfectly happy to glide.

Who would want to be a bird anyway?

Reaching his destination, he scurried to the edge of the large branch and looked down at the rest of the sleeping colony, dark silhouettes snug in their nests. Dawn is just about to arrive and the sky was a pale blue color that darkened as it edged the western horizon. Like most chiropters, he was afraid of the dark, but he gulped down his fear and focused on what he came here for. It wasn't easy. He could barely see and his muscles trembled, heart pounding, claws digging into the bark. No matter how many times he's done this, it never got any easier.

He hoped the sun would move faster so he can get started on his practice. He rustled his furry sails impatiently and heard a responding rustle above him. Startled, he snapped his gaze upwards, but saw nothing. Must be hearing things now. The dark tends to do that, after all. He was about to shrug it off when it happened again. Almost whimpering in fear, he edged towards the trunk slowly, hunching his shoulders and bristling his fur, eyes fixed on the branch above him.

There was a large silhouette perched silently. It was a bird, it had to be. What else lived in the tree? He wondered if it was awake and what it was doing here. Finally, he received a break and a sliver of sunlight washed down. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough. The bird was staring right at him, dark eyes narrowed in what seemed to be malevolence. Its red crest was flared in aggression and the chiropter wondered what he'd done to get such a look.

The bird's head cocked, growling under its breath. Another bird fluttered beside it and chirped. The other bird chirped back and more of the avians flew lower. Cawing, they each stared at him and he gulped. Why was he getting such a negative feeling about these birds?

"It's him." he heard one mutter.

"Yes, it has to be him. Who else would come up here?"

"Good point. Now's the time. The others are asleep."

Time for what? He didn't want to find out. He should leave now, go back to the colony. They would protect him from such an unknown menace. He threw himself towards the edge of the branch, ready to glide. But just as he got close, he felt talons close into his fur and he was being pressed into the bark. He yelped in pain and surprise. It was in chiropter territory!

"What're you doing?!" he yelled at the bird holding him down. The larger creature flared its plumage and hissed, its sharp beak uncomfortably close. It muttered something, softly at first, but then it built up into a hostile chant.

"Come and see. Come and see the way of things."

The newborn chiropter struggled to get free, trying to bite the claws that held him. "Mom! Dad! Help!" But his desperate cries were drowned out by the loud song of the birds. What's going on!? Why were they doing this to him!? What did he do wrong?! "Leave me alone! I didn't do anything!"

"Hold him down! We can't let him fly away!" one bird growled. Fly away? What were they talking about? He can't fly! His confused thoughts were cut off as more birds crowded around him, using their beaks to pry his sails open and pinning each to the branch under their scaly, clawed feet. Their talons pierced through fur and membrane. The chiropter cried out.

"No!" He thrashed for all he was worth, trying to break away from their grasp. He hissed and showed his teeth, flattening his ears to his head. But it was to no prevail. There were too many, his enemies too big and strong. He had no chance, but he was going to fight for one anyway. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was sheer terror, but he wasn't going to give up without a fight!

One of the birds pecked at his left sail and he screamed as the membrane tore under the sharp weapon. He couldn't stop the tears of agony rolling down his face, his fur matted in seconds. Another sharp pain occurred in his other sail and the chiropter tried to pull himself backwards with his feet. Claws tightened around him, digging their sharp points into his skin.

"Mom!" He screamed instinctively, but he could barely hear himself over the hoarse calls of these monsters. He was bombarded with pain and torture as each bird took its turn at pecking his sails. He couldn't understand why they were aiming at that part of his body, but his paniced mind didn't care. It was painful, unbelievably painful, and that was all he could really comprehend.

Over the din, he heard one bird whisper straight into his ear, the tone heavy in anger and disdain. "See? There are those who'll be more than happy to rip your little wings off."

His thoughts didn't even bother correcting the word 'wings' with 'sails'. Instead, he tried to snap at the bird but it pulled its feathered head away and clamped its beak firmly around the base of his arm. Another bird did the same with the other. They were going to rip them off! That thought came too late and the limbs were viciously torn from his body, the agony blinding almost every sense. The young beast squealed and saw his own sails dangling from the beaks of his attackers, the edges ragged. Sobbing and whimpering, he wished his mother and father was here. He'll welcome anyone who could help, even Dusk.

"Stop!" The voice wasn't his own, but that of a bird! Looking up, he saw a young bird watching in distress. However, the adult birds paid no attention to the youngster who kept a safe distance and the bleeding beast stared desperately at this creature, the only creature here who seem to care. He didn't know why it did, but he was thankful for it for some reason. At least he could understand that not all of them are bad.

Warm redness puddled beneath his furry body and, with the last of his strength, managed to stretch his head over the branch. He stared at his family's perch, stared hard through tear-filled eyes. There's his mother and father. Nearby was Jib and his family. And a few more branches over was Sylph and Dusk...

He felt another bird clamp its beak on the nape of his neck and he was limp and helpless as he heard a final snap...

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Well, this is different when it comes to my usual Silverwing stories. After reading Darkwing for the millionth time, I always wanted to write this, but never had much time. Now I did it and it came out darker than I planned. But, I like dark stories and this actually came better than expected. Please review and tell me what you think!


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